


After you fell

by Krystalmatsumiya



Series: Moments [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalmatsumiya/pseuds/Krystalmatsumiya
Summary: After Sherlock's death, Greg is left to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir, there has been a report. Sherlock Holmes” The flushed excited face of the constable flashed in front of his face as Greg was going to get a coffee and a pasty. His head was throbbing and if he ever saw Anderson and Donovan again it would be too bloody soon. How the pair could actually believe that Sherlock bloody Holmes was a criminal mastermind was beyond him. The git was a lot of things, which he knew all too well, but he was always trying to do the right thing. Even if he were a clumsy bastard about it. 

“What’s he meant to have done now, constable?” He asked hoping that he could get Sherlock in and prove once and for all that he wasn’t what they were saying. The smile that appeared on the young man’s face was almost creepy and it became downright so when he said in an excited tone;

“He’s killed himself sir, gone and thrown himself off the roof of Bart’s” 

“What?” Greg breathed his knees bucking more than he would have liked, his blood freezing in his veins. He slumped against the wall the young constable reaching out to hold him up.

“’Ere, inspector, you okay? You’ve gone a bit green”

“Wh…Where…When…Where is he?” He spluttered pushing away the hands and righting himself as much as he possibly could. He knew the answer, he would be in the morgue, on a slab. Sherlock had always seemed happiest in the morgue running his experiments but Greg doubted that the man could ever have believed that he would end up in there. He could still hear the arrogant voice telling him that it was just the transport, rather like a meat suit, nothing of the person left but he wanted to see him, needed to see him. His legs stumbled slowly to the exit his mind filled with one purpose and one purpose only. 

*~**~*~  
“What do you mean I can’t see him?” He growled staring at the expressionless face of Mycroft Holes. He had never believed that the man was as emotional empty as a cockroach but at that moment the eyes were free from any emotion other than irritation, as though Sherlock’s death was nothing more than an inconvenience for him. He stared down his long-crooked nose at him, his eyes holding the same look that Sherlock’s held when he thought that he was being stupid.

“I rather think that I’m doing you a kindness, inspector” He said smoothly “You and my brother were no longer intimate at the point of his death, at least that is what I understood and it wasn’t a pleasant sight, you would do better to think of him as he was” Greg’s fist clenched and he struck before he even realised what he was doing. He managed to strike him on the cheek and he was satisfied at the sound he heard from the action. To his credit, Mycroft’s expression didn’t change much, even as the rose-pink colour spread out over his cheek. He merely jerked his head in a polite nod and then turned on his polished heels and started to walk away saying “As you are clearly upset I will forget this. I will send you the details of the funeral” 

“Sherlock always said you were a right bastard” Greg spat a shivery feeling washing over him as two men in suits came out rolling gurney between them on which was a body bag. He refused to think of it as Sherlock but the sight was enough to knock the wind out of him. Mycroft waved a hand over his shoulder saying;

“Indeed, good day inspector”

Greg watched him go with his back as straight as possible and then he collapsed his legs no longer holding him upright. The adrenaline which had brought him here fading quickly now that he had no idea what he was going to do. His eyes itched with tears that he refused to shed and he felt cold and shivery all over. A million and one thoughts were swirling around in his head and he breathed sharply through his nose guilt stomping around on his heart as though it were wearing hobnail boots. 

“Greg? Are you okay?” A voice asked and he had the presence of mind to recognise that it was Mrs Hudson. He tried his best to look at her noting that her eyes were red and wet. He was surprised that she was even able to walk let alone talk to anybody. Nobody but John and Mycroft knew that Sherlock and he had been lovers so he wasn’t anything more than standard sympathy as a colleague so he was surprised when he was pulled into a hug as she sobbed loudly “I mean, how, how, could you be, poor Sherlock” 

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to cry, Mrs Hudson” He breathed doing his best to comfort the older woman while he was positive that his heart was completely broken and he doubted that it would ever be right again. 

*~*~*~*~*~~*  
Greg sat at the back of the church staring at the coffin that held the body of his love. There weren’t any tears he thought that there should be tears but they wouldn’t come. Perhaps it was because he knew that Sherlock would have laughed at him if he had known that he had cried. He could hear his voice now berating Mrs Hudson for her wailing, for Molly who hadn’t stopped crying since she had lain him out. John hadn’t cried either he could see that. John was sitting at the front with Mrs Hudson and her from next door. His eyes were fixed just as firmly on the simple coffin. Mycroft had arranged the funeral as smoothly as he arranged everything else refusing even the suggestion of help. He hadn't come for the service though. 

There weren’t many there. Sherlock had been completely disgraced at the end of his life so even the people he helped hadn’t sent anything. It was a lonely thing and he was glad that he had brought a wraith though Sherlock would have complained about that given half the chance. His lips twitched for a moment thinking about it before a fat tear slid down his cheek and splashed onto his hand and he whispered;

"Sunshine, you bastard"


	2. Chapter 2

Greg kicked at the glass bottles that lay scattered around the floor of his apartment as he stumbled his way to the couch. He hadn’t cleaned anything in the three weeks since Sherlock’s death. He knew that he smelt like the worst kind of seedy brewery and was in desperate need of a shower. Outside of his home he had tried to behave like a man that hadn’t had his world ripped in two but it was hard and growing harder with each passing day. Each case he worked he expected to see Sherlock’s lithe form stalking into the room and hear his voice issuing harsh insults. Each time the door opened and it wasn’t Sherlock his heart broke a little more. 

His guilt was crushing his each and every waking moment. Rebecca had tried to contact him several times as had his brother and cousins but he ignored their calls focusing all his energy into not curling into a ball and allowing the world to go on without him. As he mourned his lover he tried his hardest to work out why Sherlock would throw himself off a building. He would have thought the man’s own arrogance would have prevented something like that from happening.

His wall was serving as a case board, showing his various many thoughts about the matter, he wasn’t having much success. Logically he knew that he would have more success if he put down the bottle but when he was sober he had to remember. He drained another bottle and then allowed it to join its fallen brethren on the floor. He dropped down onto the sofa and stared up at the mould on the ceiling until an urgent rapping on the door. He didn’t want or expect company but when the knocking continued for several minutes he got unsteadily to his feet and then stumbled through the army of bottles. 

“What is it? If this is about changing my supplier I’m not bloody interested” He yelped loudly as he slammed his knee against a small coffee table which held a microscope Sherlock had left once when he had been staying here for a period. It swayed dangerously and quickly Greg reached out to grab it before it fell to the floor and broke. He could see the name William Sherlock Holmes scratched into the side with a childish hand and he could easily imagine his young lover doing it as a child while bored in school. His eyes pricked with hot tears and he hugged the microscope to his chest as he finally reached the door and pulled it open. 

His visitor wasn’t somebody that he had expected and he stared in horror at Rebecca who was staring at him with a pale face and a nervous expression about her eyes. It looked as though she had been hovering by the door for some time before plucking up the courage to knock. 

“…I asked your cousin…I’m sorry I shouldn’t…I…I read the paper and I came…I’m so sorry, about Sherlock I mean” Rebecca stammered in a harried whisper pushing her way into the room and looking around with a mixture of horror and guilt flashing on her face. Greg followed her in his arms wrapping tightly around the microscope. “I know that…That…You…I’m sorry...Sherlock was your lover, right?”

“You guessed that much?” Greg muttered walking slowly back to his sofa trying to avoid being near the woman. It wasn’t her fault. It had been his own doing, he knew that more than most, and he knew that he couldn’t betray Sherlock any more than he had already done. 

“You spent all night talking about him. You didn’t say a direct name but you said enough for me to realise who it was.” She replied with a very tiny smile perching herself down on the very edge of a wooden stool “Almost all of it bad but you did continue to say that you loved him greatly” 

“I’m sorry” 

“You were pretty drunk, we both were” She smiled weakly her cheeks coloured just a little bit as her eyes looked at the floor before saying with a little chuckle “If I were you I would have been more embarrassed about when you went to the bathroom and…Well…Played with yourself” 

“That…That was all I did? You and I, we didn’t, we didn’t…” 

“I might be desperate but I’ve never been so desperate to sleep with somebody else’s man. Plus you showed no real interest in me that way…” 

Greg blinked the microscope that he had been holding falling onto the sofa beside him as for the first time since Sherlock’s death he started crying proper tears which rocked through his entire body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay


	3. Chapter 3

“So, nobody knows? About you and Sherlock?” Rebecca asked softly later when he had calmed down a bit and she’d managed to rustle up a half decent meal out of what he’d had laid around. It felt weird to be having something that wasn’t a liquid and he chewed it down slowly before answering with a nod; 

“John does, the bloke that runs, or rather ran, the blog, and his brother” 

“Sherlock Holmes has a brother?” Rebecca looked as surprised as he had felt when Mycroft had introduced himself. The man had swept into the station while he had been involved in a rather difficult triple homicide. He had looked at the board and solved the why, the who, and the when with just a glance. Even Sherlock hadn’t been able to do that. He had scared him. There was no denying that there was something outright terrifying about a man who could kill you openly in broad daylight and have it all covered up. 

“Yeah, right bastard. Sherlock already told me he was but I never believed him, I suppose. I really thought if there was one thing Mycroft Holmes cared about it was his brother” He whispered remembering the conversation, the icy stare with the annoying smirk as he had told him that it would be better for him not to get involved with Sherlock Holmes. Even now he thought Mycroft was wrong. Even now he believed that he had been privileged in being allowed to love Sherlock and be loved by him in return. Even if the bastard had never told him so. “Didn’t even come to the funeral. He arranged it of course, paid for it all, but never showed up. Not that many did. Sherlock pissed people off so much that they wanted to believe the worst of him” 

“I see” Rebecca hummed comfortingly at his side and Greg offered her a sheepish little smile. It felt so good to talk about Sherlock to somebody that didn’t seem to be telling him how he tricked him that he hadn’t realised that she probably didn’t want to hear it. 

“Sorry, for ranting” 

“After what you’ve told me, Greg, you haven’t been allowed to grieve yet. So, don’t mind me. I don’t know Sherlock, except from what I read on his blog, of course, so it’s nice to get the real Sherlock” She smiled prettily nudging his arm before taking another sip of coffee and getting comfy in the seat beside him. Greg stared at her for an impossibly long time wondering how somebody he barely knew could offer him so much comfort but it felt nice and he smiled gratefully at her and asked;

“So, you’ve read the blog?”

“Sherlock’s? I don’t think I know anybody that hasn’t” Rebecca chuckled giving a nod “Is it accurate?” 

“Yes, and no, the Sherlock I knew and the Sherlock John did were different halves of the same person. He had his moments where he could be sweet, when he wanted to be, most of the he was a prize prat. That won’t change just because he’s gone” Greg laughed just a little bit. It was a hallow sound though and his eyes prickled with yet more tears and he gripped his hands tightly on his lap remembering the times that Sherlock came into this very room and dropped himself down like a cat while he watched a game. The time when he had been so convinced that he would be the one to cheat. “What was in the papers, it was all bullshit. Sherlock wasn’t fake, he didn’t set it all up and I’m going to prove it. No matter what I’m going to clear his name” 

“Is that what this is all about?” The doctor pointed to the case board that he had been working on and he gave a nod running his fingers through his hair that he was positive had a few more greys in now. Her eyes focused on the picture of Moriarty which was in the centre. Everything was about him. It had to be there was no other reason that Sherlock would end his own life. “The papers said that Moriarty was a fake” 

“Complete, horseshit. Moriarty was a psychopath. Nothing would have stopped him. I have no idea what happened on that roof but I do know Sherlock was right and I’m going to prove it”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...I don't think Rebecca is trying to get with Greg, so don't panic on that. She just worked out that nobody knew that he and Sherlock were dating and is being nice :)   
> I hope that this was okay :)


	4. Chapter 4

Greg felt at least ten times better the next morning. He had talked about Sherlock until he was horse, telling Rebecca all the good times that he’d had with his lover over the bad ones. It felt better than he could have imagined to just say his name out loud and be allowed to have his weakness. He’d felt guilty when the sunlight had streamed in through the window and Rebecca had ruefully chuckled and remarked that she had to leave to do a shift in the ER. 

“I’m sorry” He muttered as he helped her into her coat and walked her to the door. “Are you going to be okay?”

“It’s okay, I’m used to running on fumes. I should be finished around six tonight, I’ll stop by and bring Chinese.” She smiled pausing in the doorway and although he wanted the company Greg stiffened a muscle pulsing in his cheek. “No strings attached, I promise, just as a friend. You can tell me more about Sherlock and Moriarty. I’m not a genius but I’m not a slouch either, and I promise that I’m a lot healthier for you than a beer bottle…” 

“Then okay, I’ll make sure that I’ll be here for half passed” He still felt a tremor of hesitation but given that he had nobody else he could talk to about it he couldn’t deny that he would be glad of the company. It felt strange spending time with the reason that he and Sherlock had broken up in those last few weeks of his life but, now that he knew nothing had happened between them, it was nice. 

“Good, see you later, Greg” Rebecca left with a cheery wave and Greg sighed looking around the mess that was his apartment in disgust knowing that he needed to clean it but also knowing that he was also going to be late if he didn’t get his butt into gear. Pushing the bottles into something of a manageable pile he headed into the shower wondering at the achievement of not heading to his office with a hangover for the first time in weeks. 

His mood dampened as he stepped in to the cubicle and allowed the water to run over him. He had often dragged Sherlock into the warm water when they had been making love. His lover had never been in the least bit concern about the fact that he had smelt strongly of sex. He had spent ages washing Sherlock’s skin, rather like a devout man worshipping at the altar of a sun-god, watching the waves of his hair become curls about his forehead and he high cheekbones. Sherlock had rewarded him sometimes by washing his back and now he closed his eyes and pressed his face against the glass wishing that he had spent more time remembering the feel of the hands on his skin. 

Guilt had prevented him for mourning the loss of his beloved. John had told him shortly at Sherlock’s wake that his actions with Rebecca had forfeited his right to mourn. In his head, Greg knew that the doctor didn’t mean it. John was just doing his level best to get over the shock of losing his best friend, but his heart had told him that that was true. Now that he knew he hadn’t cheated he felt the weight of his loss more crushingly than ever. 

Fat tears cascaded their way down his cheeks, snagging on the bristles that he hadn’t shaved, before joining the swirls of soapsuds that were racing to the plughole. He could still hear Sherlock telling him that he was stupid for mourning him like this. 

“Just let me you bastard” He breathed to the empty air before soaping up his face and doing his best to make himself look presentable. Now that he had told somebody that he was going to investigate Moriarty it felt real and he needed to make sure that everyone knew that he wasn’t a washed up drunk. He was positive that it was only by the grace of Mycroft Holmes, he hadn’t lost his job over Sherlock, he hadn’t been privy to the conversation but the superintendent had growled at him to get back to work but his actions were damaging his career and he had to pull himself back and he was bloody well going to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

After Anderson and Donovan’s little united skirmish against him, Greg had requested a change of sergeant. It hadn’t been all that surprising and the superintendent had reluctantly agreed. Unfortunately, his new sergeant was lazy and undisciplined unwilling to work the hours that were required. Fortunately for the sergeant Greg hadn’t been all that interested in work now though that wasn’t going to be good enough. He walked into the office and saw the sergeant, David Monroe, leaning back in his chair with his legs on the desk. His eyes were closed and his hands were folded over his slightly rotund stomach. A whistling snore was emitting from his nose and Greg marched forward pushing the legs from the desk and waking him with a jerk. 

“What was that for?” The man growled for a moment before staring up at Greg with wide eyes. “Sir” 

“I think that we’ve been letting things slip.” He said with more authority in his voice than he had felt for a while. It felt good as he placed his hands on his hips “I want all the case files from every single case Sherlock helped us on” 

“Sir?” David gasped his mouth opening and closing like an overly demanding gold fish and Greg turned his attention to everyone else in the room including Donovan who, while being assigned to another detective inspector, was still in the same department. She had looked up from her computer to stare at him with both confusion and suspicion and Greg growled loudly to his new sergeant;

“Hop to it sergeant, if Sherlock was playing us then I want to know about it” His heart clenched at the little fib but he ignored it knowing that almost everyone there wanted to believe that Sherlock was the lying arsehole that he pretended to be and if that was the way that they wanted to play it so be it but he was going to prove that Sherlock was innocent. “There is going to be a court case and everything is going to come out we’re going to need as much evidence as we can to prove that we didn’t cause an innocent man to take his own life” 

“Right…But every case? That’s got to be 100’s…” David spluttered and Greg gave a slow determined nod as though he were dealing with a child his eyebrows lifting a fraction before he decided to concede a little barking out;

“Start with the most recent” Donovan continued to stare at him with her eyebrows drawn together and her lips twitching in the same disapproving way that he had grown used to in their time working together "Start with U.S. ambassador case...Our biggest evidence there is a confused and terrified little girl who screamed when she saw Sherlock that'll be the first bit that is thrown out, work your way back from there for the last six months” 

“Yes, sir” David spluttered before getting up from his chair so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet. He righted himself quickly, his ears burning with some embarrassment, and hurried out of the main office. Greg sighed with a little bit of happiness and then gave a nod walking to his own small office. There was nothing here that should remind anyone else of Sherlock. There were no loving couple photos or mementos given by a lover to their partner but there was a painting of an afternoon sun shining down onto a lake. Sherlock had presented it to him one year saying that it had been gift from an old lady for helping her with some sort of problem. Greg knew that he was lying, that Sherlock had brought it him as a reminder of his hated nickname and his lips twitched whenever he saw it. He sat down at his desk and switched on his computer not overly surprised when his door was cast in shadow and Donovan was looking at him with her eyes searching his face slowly. 

“What are you playing at?”

“Excuse me? Regardless of what you think of me, Donovan, I am still your superior officer” He growled his once easy going attitude with the sergeant completely gone. The woman flinched just a little bit but did manage to right herself and look a little more respectful. 

“Sorry, sir, I meant what are you doing in regards to the Holmes case?” She asked and Greg gave a roll of his shoulders sitting down at his desk. 

“Sherlock killed himself because of our accusations, you don’t think that is going to come back and bite us in the butt? If Sherlock was playing us, I want to make damn well sure that we have proof of that” He said once again finding it surprisingly easy to lie. He knew that he wouldn’t find proof that Sherlock betrayed him but he knew that he would find evidence that Richard Brook was indeed Moriarty. Sherlock thought that he was an idiot and compared to the Holmes brothers he was but he was still a bloody good inspector and it was time that he proved that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...I hope that this is okay >.


	6. Chapter 6

A couple of the hours later found Greg sitting on the floor of his office with paperwork scattered about him. What frustrated him the most was how little Sherlock had allowed himself to be given credit. In the early days, at least, Sherlock had slunk in and then swept out again refusing to take credit or deal with the paperwork that came. As it was there was so little for him to go on to prove that Sherlock hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing. Letting out a swear he threw down some papers he had been holding and took out his phone jolting just a little when he realised that the lock screen photo was of Sherlock. 

It was one of the rare occurrences where he had convinced Sherlock to go out for something other than a crime. For some reason, they had ended up in Brighton eating chips from a cone on the pier. The weather had been blood awful alternating between wet and very wet with a wind chill of near freezing temperatures. Sherlock had questioned his sanity for the entire time that he had been there but Greg remembered that he had never tried to actually leave. The picture on his phone had been snapped when they had been on the train home Sherlock had been casually flipping through his phone a quiet smile on his face. The sight was one he had wanted to burn into his mind and never let go and so he had taken the picture. 

The love making that night had been incredible with Sherlock giving in willingly to each one of his demands and now he realised that that had been the last time they had lain together. A week later he had been in America. His heart pounded against his ribs as tears threatened. Quickly he pushed them away and switched on the phone pressing the number he had never expected to be calling. Sherlock had typed it in once long ago and Greg had to admit that his hand was trembling as he called it and then pressed it to his ear. 

“Inspector Lestrade” Mycroft Holmes answered after only the second ring and although he told himself that he shouldn’t be surprised but he couldn’t stop himself from saying;

“I’m not completely sure I want to know how you knew that it was me” 

“I am currently away from my office, calls are being directed to my mobile” Mycroft answered dryly his voice brisk and Greg fancied that he could hear the wind and gulls calling to each other. It was a strange thing to associate Mycroft Holmes with as he had always made it abundantly clear that he hated field work. “I sincerely doubt you rang me for idle chitchat inspector. I’m a busy man” 

“It’s about Sherlock” 

“I highly doubt that he could have caused you any more trouble given his current state” Mycroft hummed slowly down the line and Greg tensed wondering how anybody could be so flippant about it all, much less his own brother. Even if they had never gotten on he could have at least pretended that he was sorry that he was dead. 

“…You really are a bastard” Greg spat down the line glad that his office door was shut so that nobody could hear him.

“I can assure you that my parents were well and truly married” Mycroft responded sounding almost amused before collected himself “if you are calling to trade insults I shall have to leave…” 

“I want to prove that he’s innocent…That what is printed is rubbish but Sherlock has left that almost impossible” 

“I see, and what is that to do with me?”

“You’re his brother, don’t you want to see him exonerated of his crimes? You know that Moriarty was what Sherlock said he was, you know…” Greg knew that he was getting emotional but after spending an entire morning going through paperwork he knew that he needed help. 

“You are free to do as you please inspector but I can’t really see how it will affect Sherlock now” Mycroft’s answer was nothing that he wasn’t expecting but his own emotional response was and he knew that he was almost crying when he whispered;

“I need to do it” 

“There is nothing that I can give you, inspector, nothing that would not endanger my own position” 

“Just something, any little thing…” Greg was expecting the phone to die without further comment but instead Mycroft sighed softly before saying;

“Stonyhurst…” 

“Stonyhurst? What does that mean?” Greg asked with confusion his eyes staring blankly at the papers in front of him knowing that it wasn't something that he had come across before. M

“Good day inspector”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm I think Greg is really a little more emotional than I would have liked but that's how he wanted to be written >.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycrofts pov

Mycroft switched off his phone and then stared at Sherlock who was sitting crossed legged and staring at him with a nearly impossible to read expression on his face. His arms were crossed and he looked rather strange out of his trademark coat. It was best though, they hadn’t yet left the country and he was by far to recognisable. Mycroft smirked pushing his phone into his breast pocket as he hummed lightly;

“May, may, brother mine, you really do know how to train your faithful hounds, but then you always knew how to handle dogs” 

“Why did you give him Stonyhurst?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft was disappointed that his brother hadn’t risen to the bait as he had hoped. The green/blue eyes fixed themselves at his own and Mycroft gave a shrug studying his fingernails before giving his answer. 

“I doubt that he will know what to do with it even now that I have given it to him, Sherlock, but if on the off chance, he does…Then, I believe that it will make things easier for you upon your return. I imagine that it would be so tedious for you to have to prove that you are not as insane as the press would have the dullards believe” 

“Lestrade isn’t a dullard” 

“No, he’s in love with you, which is worse” Mycroft near cringed as he muttered the word love and Sherlock did the same before turning to look out over the ocean. Sherlock had insisted on bringing justice down onto the ones that had held the trigger to his three favourite pets himself and Mycroft had been brought in to supervise. Field work wasn’t something that he enjoyed but as he was one of only a handful of people who knew that Sherlock was alive there hadn’t been an alternative. As it was the last of Moriarty’s gunmen had been taken down. Sherlock had been pretty aggressive this time but Mycroft supposed that that wasn’t all that surprising. The man had pointed a gun at Greg Lestrade. “You do know that he never slept with that girl” 

“I am aware. If you are quite finished Mycroft” Sherlock huffed sharply getting to his feet and walking to the bow of the ferry which was taking them to France. A private plane would have been his preferred mode of transport but given that the wretched henchmen had been living aboard a boat himself it had been their best option. 

“I always told you that feelings were a distraction” 

“You are the only one trying to distract me, Mycroft, my feelings have already been dealt with” Sherlock huffed in much the same way he had done when he was told to tidy his room and to get rid of the specimens that he would bring home. It always ended the same, with their father the maid screaming when they had found a dead rat, rabbit, or squirrel that Sherlock had been studying. 

“I’m sure” Mycroft responded sarcastically wondering how Sherlock thought that he could pull the wool over his eyes. “I do wish you would have told that to your fists. You almost blinded a man Sherlock” 

“He wasn’t a particularly nice man” Sherlock’s lips twitched a little as though he were smiling at a memory Mycroft didn’t understand and he gave a shrug pointing out slowly;

“Nor were the other two but I don’t recall you pummelling them into the floor, but then again neither of them had pointed a gun at your faithful pet policeman” Mycroft smirked a little more when he felt the muscle pulse in Sherlock’s face just under his eye. Always he was worried that one day Sherlock would grow unmoved by his desire to goad him but thankfully today was not that day. “You could have told him, Sherlock, if you desired.” 

“Why would I have done that?” The baffled expression was back but it didn’t hold as much weight this time. His brother wasn’t as blind to his emotions had he liked to pretend and for somebody who had watched out for Sherlock’s best interests in his own way he was pleased for it. 

“It would have saved him heartache” 

“Since when did you care about that?”

“I don’t, but I thought that you might” The eldest Holmes gave a shrug and Sherlock looked irritated his eyes boring a little into his own before he growled;

“If you’re so interested then you tell him” 

“Perhaps I shall, though I will see how he handles my clue first”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that this is okay


	8. Chapter 8

“Stonyhurst? What’s that?” Rebecca asked later when Greg was back in his apartment and they were sitting on the couch with Chinese food and coffee. The woman had changed since last night but there were noticeable shadows under her eyes and Greg felt a pinch of guilt residing in his chest though it was over-ridden by a sense of happiness that she hadn’t known what it was either making him feel like less of a dunce for not knowing what it was. It had taken a google search for him to find the answer but it had just proved to be another dead end and he could almost imagine Mycroft Homes laughing at him for not understanding. 

“A school in Lancashire” He answered through a mouthful of sweet and sour tossing over the file on the elite school. It was the kind of place that he could easily imagine Sherlock and Mycroft in. A grade 1 listed building in the heart of the countryside. Moriarty had always seemed a little more down to earth than the Holmes brothers, his sanity not included, so it was impossible to see him in such a school. “Are you sure you want to do this? You look done in” 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll get my second wind soon” The woman smiled in a drowsy way which didn’t give him much room to believe here, less so when she tried to hid a yawn with her hand “Besides it not every day you get to help solve a crime. So why would Sherlock’s brother give you the name of a school? Was it Moriarty’s school?” 

“I checked attendance records well back into the 80’s and there was no mention of a James Moriarty” Greg sighed and rubbed his own eyes with his fingers knowing that they were getting nowhere fast. “I could pull the records again in the morning, I suppose. But I don’t think that it will change overnight. It could all be for nothing. I wouldn’t put it passed Mycroft to set me up on a wild-goose chase…” 

“Why would he do that?”

“The last time I spoke to him in person, I punched him in the face” Greg admitted trying his best not to feel too smug about it knowing that Sherlock would have loved to have seen it. Rebecca looked wide eyed for a moment and then chuckled clearly not understanding just how intimidating the man could be. It was nice though to hear her laugh, it made the apartment seem a lot warmer. “So, I really wouldn’t expect anything less than him setting me up as a punishment for that” 

“From what you’ve told me I think that he could have probably done a lot worse…” 

“Yeah, I’m still pretty convinced that he saved my job” Greg sighed and leaned back against the sofa trying his best to work out how Mycroft Holme’s brain worked before realising that he might as well be asking how the universe worked. The man was an enigma but Greg was still quietly confident that Mycroft cared about his brother. He just didn’t understand how Stonyhurst helped him when it was clear that Jim Moriarty had erased himself. His eyes moved to the Microscope a young Sherlock had taken the time to scratch his name into and he blinked slowly “At least digitally…” He whispered grabbing the microscope and running his fingers over the name “…Physically…I mean he couldn’t have gotten to them all…People would have known him at school…” 

“Yeah…But it was a while ago, teachers move on, students forget” Rebecca pointed out gently and Greg gave a nod knowing that if he went back to his own school he would have been barely a footnote in the grand scheme of things but Moriarty wasn’t like him. He was like Sherlock and he could easily imagine Moriarty bored out of his skull and bemoaning the fact that he was stuck in a school with a horde of morons. He would have had to prove that he was smarter than everyone else. 

“Like Sherlock I doubt that Moriarty would have been happy to have faded into the background, somebody at the school…Something at the school must prove that Moriarty was Moriarty” 

“If that were the case, don’t you think that people would have come forward before now?” 

“I don’t know, but I have to try something and this is all I’ve got”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm....I honestly can't remember if they said Moriarty's school name in the show but I went with the name from the books...I hope that this is okay :)


	9. Chapter 9

Stonyhurst school was as impressive as it had appeared on the website and Greg felt almost ashamed of his own appearance and it was one of the rare times that he wasn’t scruffily dressed. Sherlock had once brought him a suit from Savile Row. It had cost more than a month’s wages but Sherlock had waved away his concern while he had said he refused to be seen with him as scruffy old man. Until today he’d only worn it a grand total of two times, both with Sherlock when he had been taken by his lover to the theatre to watch violins. 

Greg felt bad for still not knowing who the music was written by but, if he were honest, he hadn’t much enjoyed the music, he’d always been more a fan of heavy prog-rock, but that Sherlock had shared it with him made it special. He had spent the night captivated by the sight of Sherlock lost for words as he watched the men and women on stage. It took a great deal to silence his lover but he was sure that the playing that night had been touch Sherlock in a profound way. It had proven to Greg at least that Sherlock had a true passion for the instrument that he often tortured for the hell of it. Sherlock might not have understood how emotions worked but he understood music. 

He was surprised to have been given a meeting with the headmaster of the school. A bone-weary sounding receptionist had arranged it all very carefully and easily when he had phoned a few days ago, it had taken him a little time to get the day off from work. There had been a triple murder, not even a 2 on Sherlock’s scale of things but for the mere mortals he had left behind it had been rather taxing. Greg was sure that had more to do with the fact he had been placed with Donovan again and he had spent a lot of the time trying not to rub it in their faces that things would have been a whole lot easier if there had been somebody that they could call for this.   
The main entrance to the school was closed and looked odd that there was a modern key pad and speaker system in place. He pressed the call button and after a short crackling the same tired voice from his phone call earlier in the week spoke up saying softly;

“Yes?”

“Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, I’m here to speak to a Reverend Martian” He spoke clearly into the speaker and held up his badge to the camera that was staring down at him. 

“Ah yes, one moment and I will let you in” Greg thanked the old woman and then turned to study the long pristine grass which seemed to stretch on for miles. The journey up the drive in the car had been time consuming and he wouldn’t have liked to have walked it. It was a beautiful location and in a setting, that wouldn’t have looked out of place for Mycroft Holmes. For Sherlock, he imagined that he would have gone crazy and he imagined that it would have been the same for James Moriarty.

There was a loud sound of a lock being undone and he turned back to the door as it creaked open to reveal an old woman dressed in a fluffy grey cardigan and a knee length skirt. Her hair was a shocking white and there was a pair of turtle shell pattern glasses on a chain around her neck dangling over the front of a glittering cat pin. He didn’t have the same observational skills as Sherlock but he could imagine that she was the type of person who owned a rather large number of cats. “Detective Inspector, I’m Hyacinth Farnon, we spoke on the phone, the reverend has been unfortunately detained but I’m to show you in” 

“Thank-you” Greg smiled and followed her inside glad that he was wearing his best suit and that he was used to dealing with the upper crust of society. Hyacinth smiled in response and hobbled a little ahead of him clearly not as agile on her legs as she once was but it seemed that she was a nosy as he had imagined her to be as she said happily;

“We were all most intrigued by your phone call, you want to ask about one of our students?” 

“A former student, if I may ask how long have you worked here Mrs Farnon?” Greg asked able to hear classes being taken though the décor of the school made it look more like a stately home. 

“It’s coming on 30 years, I came here in the late 70’s with my husband, he was a Science teacher you see” 

“I see, I’m sure that you’ve had a great many students pass through since that time?”

“Too many to count” 

“I bet you find it difficult to remember them all?”

“Certainly” Hyacinth nodded leading him into a small neat little office “I remember the boarders more than I do the day students. Though some are special” 

“What about a James Moriarty? Do you remember him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay


	10. Chapter 10

Greg was sure that there was a flicker of recognition in the woman’s eyes. Her mouth pinched and her hands gripped together so tightly that he saw her knuckles grow white with the stress of it. His heart swelled with hope wondering if it were possible that it would be that easy. Hyacinth soon cleared her throat, her expression clearing as she gave him an apologetic smile shaking her head from side to side.   
“No, I’m sorry, was he a student here?” She asked in a sweet grandmotherly tone her head cocking to one side as she sat down at a leather chair her hand gripping at the polished desk in front of her. Her shoulders were still tense however and it was clear that she had never been meant for a life on the stage. Her eyes were shifting to the door and then the clock as though she were hoping   
“You don’t recognise the name at all?” Greg probed knowing that the name was famous now, most of the newspapers were filled with the name which was now synonymous to Sherlock’s. Even if people thought that Sherlock was a liar and Moriarty was innocent people had heard of it and although Hyacinth looked extremely thoughtful she shook her head slowly saying; 

“Not that I can think of, I’m sorry. Is it important?”

“No, I’m sure that it’s fine” He said with a hard smile not wanting to be kicked out before he had a chance to speak to the headmaster. He was sure that a place like this had its own security and he had no jurisdiction here after all. A small part of him believed or rather hoped that Mycroft would step in but he wasn’t the type that lived on hope. Mycroft would probably allow him just enough rope to hang himself on. “The Reverend will be long?”

“He hopes not, the boys were at a rugby match, they should have been back an hour ago, unfortunately traffic…” Hyacinth gave a small helpless gesture obviously relieved that he had stopped asking against about Moriarty and he allowed himself to chuckle with understanding and sympathy saying;

“Yeah, I understand that, the M6 was a nightmare, was stuck for almost two hours near the junction” 

“Ah! Sorry, I haven’t offered you a drink, have I? Tea, Coffee?” The woman jumped to her feet and hurried over to a small station which held a kettle, cups, and jars of tea and coffee and Greg gave his best smile watching her jerky movements. When she had first allowed him into the school she had appeared to be happy and confident but now she was nervous and although he didn’t feel comfortable bullying an old woman he did want to know what it was that had put her on edge. To do that he had he had to get her eased again and he hummed happily;

“Tea, please” 

“Milk and sugar?” She breathed with a stiff upper lip even as her hands shook as she waved around a pot which held cubes of sugar. The inspector wasn’t anywhere near as good as his lover had been but he could see that all wasn’t right and he wondered when it was Moriarty had gotten to them. 

“One, ta” Greg smiled his eyes moving around the room noting the paintings which were pretty but crudely drawn and he assumed that they were gifts given by students on the verge of leaving or, more likely had passed over to art college. There was a rattling of a cup and a saucer and Greg looked up at the woman “The team is rather keen? The rugby?”   
“Yes, I believe that they are good, do you play?” She handed over a blue China cup with a delicate picture of birds and flowers. 

“No, I’ve always played football, I was in my school team” The woman didn’t seem all that impressed and Greg just continued to smile blandly sipping at the tea trying his best not to wince at the burning that hit at the back of his throat. “Has the reverend worked here for very long?”

“Seven years, not very long at all, he’s a good man however…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay


	11. Chapter 11

Greg had finished the tea and more than a few biscuits before the door to the office opened and the man who he assumed was the Reverend Martin. The man was younger than he was expecting, around the same age as Sherlock, with a crop of dirty blonde hair and warm brown eyes. There was a dimple in his cheek when he gave an apologetic smile and reached out with his hand. 

“Inspector Lestrade? Reverend Martin” He said and Greg grasped the hand tightly noting that it was free from any signs of sweat meaning that he probably wasn’t hiding anything. “I’m sorry for the delay. I’ve only just got back to the school” 

“Rugby, Mrs Farnon was telling me, Reverend, I hope that you won” Greg smiled a little more as the other man gave a broader smile and nodded his eyes shining with a happiness that he got when his own team won “Congratulations, it’s at all, thanks for seeing me so suddenly my request must have seemed puzzling to you”

“Not really puzzling but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help, I’ve not really been here for very long you see, not long enough to know many of the students” Martin said gently his cheeks going a warm pink in colour and Greg smiled with as much understanding as he could manage. 

“I understand sir, I was wondering if I could go through your records” He didn’t ask about Moriarty as he noticed that Hyacinth was hovering in the background and he imagined that the old bird would only shut him up if he tried. The reverend smiled again the dimple forming in his cheek as more warmth appeared in his eyes. He wasn’t a religious man, when somebody dated Sherlock Holmes religion was a bit of a non-starter, but he imagined that Martin was the kind of person that people imagined Reverend’s to be. He was like the priests that appeared in the cosy old shows that his grandmother had watched when he had paid a visit. 

“Of course, most of them have gone digital” 

“Yes, but I was hoping that I could search for something in the physical records. I understand that you still have them” Greg said trying not to smile when the cups almost fell off the tray as Hyacinth was trying to gather them up and Greg was determined that he was on the right path. A giddy kind of excitement blossomed in his chest and he had to fight to keep the excitement off his face.

“Somewhere. I don’t think that any have been removed since the school was first opened. May I ask what name that you’re hoping to find?”

“Richard Brook” Greg answered knowing that he was confusing the old woman. Martin looked a little less so, in fact he looked thoughtful his eyebrows knitting together as though he had heard the name before. It was the reaction that he would have expected given how big the story was and he wasn’t surprised when the man said slowly;

“Richard Brook? He’s that man in London, the man that that fake detective set up” Greg struggled not to react to the term fake detective. He had grown used to hearing Donovan saying it but he was going to make sure that people would remember that Sherlock was the greatest detective the world. Instead of saying that though Greg just nodded and responded with a policeman’s polite; 

“Indeed”

“That’s why you’re here? You think that he was a student here?” 

“It’s one line of enquiry. Unfortunately, Sherlock, the detective who set everything up killed himself and there will be a trial” Greg said slowly his stomach twisting as he thought about Donovan and Anderson and the case that they were compiling against Sherlock. His case had to be more watertight than theirs. It wasn’t the Reverend who spoke but woman, her voice almost frantic as she gasped;

“Why? If the detective was a fake, why would there be a trial?”

“Because, Mrs Farnon, Sherlock Holmes helped us out on many cases and the clear majority of them must be reviewed. If you can show me to your records room please, Reverend?” 

“Of course, this way please inspector”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh...I promise that things will start moving soon >.


	12. Chapter 12

“Wow, that’s a lot of filing cabinets” Greg whistled loudly his heart sinking just the tiniest bit as he looked at the army of filing cabinets that were stretching out in front of him. He had followed the headmaster to the attic area of the school and he could tell that it wasn’t somewhere that people came a lot. There was a thick layer of dust over everything and it was taking everything that he had not to sneeze loudly.   
“I think you could narrow it down if you knew if he were a day student or a boarder” The reverend offered out somewhat unhelpfully and Greg wished with all his soul that Mycroft Bloody Holmes had been a little more forthcoming with information or if he could have asked John for help. He hadn’t spoken to the doctor since the funeral though and he didn’t imagine that he would be somebody high up on his want to speak to list. “Or what year he might have attended”   
“I’m not completely sure how old he was” Greg tried his best not to sound too completely defeated before he had even begun but it was a difficult thing. Moriarty had manufactured an entire new life for himself, he had provided testimonials, back story, evidence, he had gotten into the system and wiped himself completely out of it. He imagined that he had had help with it though for a man with almost the same amount of intelligence as Mycroft and Sherlock it would have been easy for him to do.   
“Don’t be dull, Lestrade, you’re hardly unintelligent. I wouldn’t have allowed you to sleep with me otherwise” Sherlock’s voice appeared in his head so suddenly and unexpectedly he imagined for a moment that he was really there next to him. “I told you once that a lie only works if you don’t over complicate it. Meaning that most of the evidence that Richard Brook provided…” 

“Were real” Greg whispered in a hiss closing his eyes and trying to remember exactly what was said in the information printed in the newspaper. He hadn’t seen the originals but the reporter had been so delighting in the scandal that she was writing that she had included almost everything. “He attended school in 1989” 

“I see…Well that’s a start” Martin smiled looking around at some of fronts of the cabinets and wandering off between them leaving Greg to follow behind checking the ones on their left. “It’s a few years back so I imagine that it would be further away from the door…Yes, see, it’s going back the further that we go into it…98, 97…93, 95…Well that’s in the wrong place for a start…91…When would you think he would have graduated? The same year or later?”

“I think that it was probably that year” Greg hummed though he knew that he couldn’t be certain. It was a good place to start however and he got the feeling that he was getting closer to something when the reverend let out a somewhat stifled gasp “If everything okay?”

“I’m not sure, inspector, I can’t say for certain but I’m almost positive that this cabinet has been opened recently” 

“I see” Greg gave a happy hum hurrying to the man’s side delighting in the sight that awaited him. The thick dust which had coated all the other cabinets was nowhere to be seen on the cabinet for 1990, only a single layer now clung to the rusting handle. It was as though somebody had wiped it clean before opening it or after opening it to remove any finger prints. Whatever the reason that it had been done didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that it had been opened and recently, most likely by Mrs Farnon the voice in his head offered out happily, and that in of itself was positive news. 

“Of course, you realise that any evidence that you might have been looking for has also been destroyed” Sherlock’s voice put in rather unhelpfully and Greg felt his chest deflate a little as he worried at his lower lip for a moment. 

“But it means that we’re on the right track” He said aloud confusing the reverend who offered him something of a worried smile before pulling open the filing cabinet. “Let’s see what we have in here then”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this isn't too boring, Sherlock and Greg will be reunited I promise :)


	13. Chapter 13

“Richard Brook, here he is inspector” Martin smiled pulling out a thick file which included a picture of the young Moriarty. The file was aged appropriately and seemed to match those that were beside it but Greg knew that there had to be something. He was growing ever more convinced that Mycroft hadn’t sent him on a wild goose-chase and that he was going to find some form of answer here at this school. The file wasn’t all that helpful as all it seemed to do was prove the fiction that Moriarty had presented to the world. The reverend was already reading through the papers while chewing on the corner of his lower lip and he let out a hum “It seems that he was a rather unremarkable student. Average grades though had a talent for acting” 

“I see. May I have a look?”

“Of course, Inspector” Martin handed him the file and then sneezed loudly three times his cheeks glowing pink with embarrassment “Sorry, I have a somewhat allergy to dust” He gasped pulling a handkerchief from the depths of his pocket before sneezing again “I truly am sorry” 

“Would it be easier for you to wait outside?” Greg asked his own nostrils wiggling around a little bit at all the dust that was flying around. He refused to give in to it though reading the grades that all seemed to be too average and mediocre. He would never have been considered a brain box at school but there had been a few lessons that he had liked and naturally his grades had always been higher in them while others like science and art for example he had always been a little lower. For Richard Brook, it all seemed to just a steady stream of D’s and lower C’s. Even English which also covered drama there was only a lower C. The comments next to the grades from the teachers were all rather uninspired to with most saying that he was a pleasant but unremarkable student. His biggest achievement seemed to have been when he played in the school play but teacher had no further praise for him than he remembered his lines very well. There didn’t seem to be anything which would have made him want to branch out and be an actor. 

Greg pulled open another file and saw right away that there was a lot more variation in the grades and in the comments, there were a few more personal touches memories of special or at least remarkable moments. After reading through ten of the files he knew that he was right. There was no personality with the Richard Brook file. Putting the other folders down he tucked the one that he had come for under his arm and then headed back towards the stairs stopping when he noticed that another filing cabinet seemed to have also been opened recently. 

Deciding to trust his instincts he went over and pulled the drawer open glad that it was smooth and didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t completely sure what he was looking for, the files inside seemed to be all in a neat and orderly manner but his copper’s thumbs were pricking telling him that something wasn’t right. One of the files at the back appeared to be at an odd angle and he pulled it out slowly his hands trembling just a little when he caught sight of the photo on the front. The boy’s hair was a nest of auburn curls and even in young age, his blue/green eyes carried the haughty ‘I know something you don’t’ look and Greg found himself whispering;

“Sherlock?” The folder was slim as though there was only a single sheet of paper inside and when he opened the thin cardboard case he saw that he was right. The was a name William Sherlock Holmes followed by an enrolment date followed closely by a leaving date. It appeared that Sherlock had managed to last at the school for only a week before he was being taken out again. The words in thick bold print on the bottom read. “Removed by request…What did you do Sherlock?” He asked the photo with a heavy heart knowing that he would probably never know the answer. Tears threatened but he ignored them looking at the other files in Sherlock’s cabinet the first one he came to giving him cause to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay^_^


	14. Chapter 14

“May I ask why you changed this file, Mrs Farnon?” Greg asked with a bland smile dropping down Richard Brook’s file down in front of her and he was sure that he saw the old woman’s cheek pulse just once as the finger of her left hand tugged at the cardigan on her right. Her eyes looked up at him through the lens of her glasses her lips puckering for a minute before she denied it with a soft;

“I didn’t” 

“If you didn’t somebody did. Who has access to the attic?” Greg’s eyes moved to Martin who was standing beside the door looking both shocked and confused as patted the key in his pocket. Greg had noticed that it was securely locked when they had first gone up and he suspected that only a few people would have the key needed. Even Moriarty couldn’t change things without somebody on the inside and already the receptionist had been acting increasingly more suspicious since he had arrived. 

“The teachers but they have to come to either myself or Mrs Farnon for the key. Have you let anybody up?”

“Of course, I haven’t, why would he think that anything about the file has been changed…?” 

“Because this file and this one are the same” Greg hummed taking out the other two files that he had brought down with him. “Word for word” 

“…Sometimes the teachers just put the same thing. It’s not a crime” She huffed and Greg refused to back down handling her only slightly more gently than he would a regular criminal. He leaned over the desk his knuckles pressing into the wood to the point that his skin was turning a harsh white. His eyes narrowed as he asked;

“What was your brief? Make it look as realistic as possible? Nothing too special…” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“You have no idea what I’m talking about and yet these documents have been clearly edited. You and the reverend are the only one with access. You’ve just told me that you haven’t allowed anyone access or are you saying that it was the reverend?” He asked calmly his eyes moving to the reverend who was now hopping from one foot to the other. “You knew James Moriarty when he was a student here. I’m guessing that you didn’t like him then. You probably saw him for what he was, that he wasn’t like the other children. Maybe he liked to hurt them” 

“I…I have no idea…I mean…I…” The woman almost whimpered her eyes clouding with tears before she sank down in her chair and whispered “It wasn’t my fault. He made me do it” 

“Where is Moriarty’s real file?” Greg sighed doing his best not to sag with his own form of relief. He wasn’t surprised that she had crumbled so easily. She wasn’t a career criminal after all just a grandmotherly old woman. He still needed some other form of proof though and he was disappointed that she seemed to shrivel a little more in front of him her eyes darting around anxiously as though Moriarty himself was going to appear from the shadows. 

“I burnt it like he told me too” She breathed her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear it “I didn’t mean too but it’s like what you said. He always terrified me, even as a boy. He was a straight A student, always helped after lessons but…But there was something about him that told you not to turn your back on him. The other boys used to pick on him for being weird. He never did anything himself, he was too physically weak for that, but…But he always had somebody that he’d manipulated into doing it for him” 

“I see…And there is no proof whatsoever that James Moriarty exists? In this entire school…” He asked knowing that he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to prove his case and to his surprise she nodded pulling open her desk and pulling out a photo in a sleek black frame.

“Here…” She breathed shoving the picture his hands and Greg saw that it appeared to be a Maths tournament. The figure holding the trophy was unrecognisable but the boy in the back glaring at him was a face that he knew quite well. “I just fetched it from the trophy case…The boy on the back row…Now look at the names…” 

“Winner Richard Jonathon Brook and Runner up James Moriarty. Does that help?” 

“It helps” Greg grinned somewhat manically. It wasn’t much but it was real proof that James Moriarty was a real name. “It helps a lot”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay >.


	15. Chapter 15

Six Months Later

“Six months, can you believe it?” Mrs Hudson asked placing down a plate of biscuits onto the table in front of him and Greg smiled recognising that they were all Sherlock’s favourites. He took a custard cream nibbled the edge carefully. He hadn’t thought about how long it had been. He had been carefully working both his job and his case to prove Moriarty was Moriarty that he hadn’t allowed himself to think of anything else. He thought that he finally had enough to show to Donovan and Anderson and he truly couldn’t wait to see their faces when he did though, if he were being perfectly honest, he thought that Anderson was a little less infuriating these days. 

“Now, Mrs Hudson. It seems like only yesterday” He breathed softly sipping at the tea she always made a little too strong for his liking but it was the way Sherlock had liked it and that was what he got. Mrs Hudson had always been a fusser and now she was acting like a mother hen without any chicks. 

“I know what you mean! I keep expecting him to walk through the door at any minute and order me about like I was his housekeeper. I have to remind myself that he’s gone and John” She said sounding just on the edge of tears and Greg froze not expecting that. He and John hadn’t been exactly bosom buddies this last six months, in fact he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the wake but he hadn’t expected him to move out. 

“John? Where did John go?”

“I don’t know…He just took off on night without warning and I haven’t heard from him since” 

“You don’t suppose anything happened to him?” He asked hoping that the doctor hadn’t done himself in. It seemed to be more than a little dramatic but John had been less than a shell of a man when he had last seen him though he’d still had a pretty decent right hook when he had told him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t deserve to mourn Sherlock because of what he’d done. 

“You would have been the first to know about that surely. But it was hard on him poor love, after Sherlock, they were such a good couple when it came down to it” She said wastefully and Greg tried his best to smile benignly remembering that he and Sherlock had never gotten around to telling her that they and not Sherlock and John were the couple. He didn’t see the point in bringing it up now however and he munched on a biscuit. “So, what was it you wanted dear?”

“I wanted to tell you and John that I’ve got almost enough evidence together to prove that Moriarty was Moriarty” 

“That’s wonderful that is! Shame you couldn’t have done it while Sherlock was still alive and it could have been useful” Her words were as cutting as a diamond tipped knife dipped in acid but he tried his best not to flinch as he gave a nod taking another biscuit. 

“I’m sorry Mrs Hudson, but it wasn’t like Sherlock gave us much time…Moriarty was clever. He almost completely erased himself” He said before explaining about the school and the chess match. “…It was like deconstructing the world’s biggest jigsaw puzzle and putting it back together again” 

“But you got it all from the photo of the chess match?” 

“Yeah, from there I had to find the real Richard Brook, he died seven years ago, his death was ruled as accidental” Greg sighed just a little remembering how painstaking it had been and how tiring as he and Rebecca had only been able to work on it at nights and days off. The woman had become a good friend to him nothing more than that but a friend that he’d been very happy to have. “…We were able to find more snippets though stretching through time that he hadn’t been able to get rid of. I hoped to tell John this, I wanted him to know that Sherlock wasn’t a fake” 

“You don’t have to tell John that, he already knows” Mrs Hudson smiled almost sympathetically as she reached over the table and took his hand “You know doing all of this won’t make him come, back right? Sherlock has gone dear” 

“I know but I owe it to him”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay :)


	16. Chapter 16

Greg stepped out of Baker street a whole two hours after he had arrived. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to go into Sherlock’s flat not yet but he had spent time with Mrs Hudson listening to her reminiscing about old times. Remembering it all a little more fondness than he would have given it but he couldn’t say that he blamed her for it. A sleek black car was park out front with Mycroft’s assistant holding it open with a pleasant smile on her face. Greg rolled his eyes slowly wondering why Mycroft couldn’t just call and invite instead of being all dramatic about it. He hadn’t spoken to Sherlock’s brother since the man had given him the hint about the school ad he supposed that now was the best time to thank him for what he had done. 

“Is somebody going to take my car?” He asked as he got inside and sat against the leather interior throwing the keys to Anthea who in turn gave them to a goon who stepped out of the front seat. He lay his head back against the cushion as Anthea got in beside him. From experience, he knew better than to ask her questions and he clenched his fists against his thighs. 

From the direction, the car was taking he realised that they were heading towards Mycroft’s office and not a random building in the middle of nowhere. Anthea didn’t look up from phone and he wondered what game she was playing this time. The last time he had been in the car with her it had been Candy Crush. They came to a stop and Anthea stepped out with the same calm silence she always did waiting for him to follow her into the building. He knew the way but since it had been a while he thought it best to stick to whatever protocol Mycroft was creating. 

Sherlock’s enigmatic brother reading through a file when he entered, leaning against his desk with one leg crossed over the other. He didn’t look up but motioned for him to sit down with a wave of the hand. Greg would have stayed standing but he knew how to play the Holmes brothers better than anyone alive and slumped down into the chair.   
“You could have just called, I was hoping to see you anyway” 

“Given the last time we spoke face to face you decided to punch me forgive me if you thought my methods extreme” Mycroft said with a fake smile snapping the file closed and looking at him with his piercing eyes. On Sherlock, it had been an attractive trait, there had been something rather delightful about having his eyes run over you on Mycroft it was like being put under the gaze of an unforgiving owl. 

“I was upset” 

“Yes, human’s do that, don’t they? Get emotional. And how are you feeling now?” Mycroft asked but Greg knew that he wasn’t here for a cosy chat about his feelings. His lips curled just a little with a smile before asking;

“Why was Sherlock removed from Stonyhurst?”

“He tried to blow up the science wing. He was extremely resentful at being sent. Not that I’m surprised he hated almost all the schools he was sent to.” Mycroft answered and Greg was close to smiling himself finding it easy to picture the scene. “I see that you followed my hint and you’ve found what you were looking for” 

“Yes, I’ve got enough information to prove that Moriarty was indeed Moriarty” 

“Congratulations, I’m sure. And how are things going with Rebecca? You and she have been spending a lot of time together in the last six months. Should we be expecting an announcement sometime soon?” Mycroft’s smile hadn’t left his face and if he had been any less certain of his own feelings he might have felt uncomfortable under the look that he was being given now. He didn’t need to ask why Mycroft knew about Rebecca Mycroft knew everything. 

“She’s a friend, she’s never been anything more than that” 

“I see. You and my brother were no longer together when he jumped…” 

“Sherlock might not have been with me, I was with him” Greg growled wondering if he would be able to get in another punch before Mycroft’s security got to him. Mycroft’s smile grew a little wider before he got up and moved around his desk taking out a phone. 

“I see, excuse for a moment, I need to make a phone call” He held the phone to his ear and Greg shifted around in the seat wondering if he were being told to go. He was half way standing when Mycroft said; “Sherlock, I know you’re busy, but I have somebody who I'm sure would like very much to speak with you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, Mycroft could have eased him into that a bit better. The next chapter is the last...I hope that this is okay >.


	17. Chapter 17

Greg stared at the phone as it was held out to him his mind, heart, and very should crackling with the words Mycroft had just said. His hand trembled as he reached out to take the phone. A million and one questions were on his tongue but not even one of them needed to be asked and answered because the moment he lifted the phone to his ear and heard Sherlock’s sharp, pissed off, voice down the line he knew that nothing else mattered. 

“Mycroft, as you have just pointed out I’m extremely busy…” Sherlock was saying and for some reason the sound of it was enough to choke him but more than anything he wanted to bask in it. It was the voice that had haunted his dreams and he had longed to hear every waking moment for the last six months. He thought that he should be angry, most people would have probably been angry but he knew Sherlock and he knew that for him to do whatever it was he was doing there had to be a reason behind it and a bloody good one. 

“Sunshine?” The nickname was out of his mouth before he could even think of correcting himself and he was damn near sure Mycroft smirked at its use but right now he couldn’t give a monkey’s uncle what the bastard thought. He did turn away from him however refusing to let him see that he was bloody crying. “Sherlock” 

“Ah, Lestrade, Mycroft has told you then” From the wording and the way that it was said, somebody else might had mistook it for being flippant and uncaring but Greg heard the way that Sherlock’s voice caught in the back of his throat and the way that he ever so slightly lingered over saying his name. 

“Nobody’s told me anything you prize prat” He growled surprised when Mycroft did the most decent thing he’s ever done and left the room allowing them time to talk alone. “Where are you? What are you doing? Why did you go?” 

“That’s a lot of questions that I really don’t time to answer Lestrade” Sherlock said crisply and again Greg heard the undercurrent of worry under the bravado as though he was expecting him not to forgive him. “I rather thought Mycroft would have filled you in on the details and I’m sure that he will when we’ve finished speaking” 

“I thought you were dead” He breathed gripping the phone ever tighter to his ear as he tried to get the voice closer to him. His breathing quickened just a little as he heard Sherlock let out a sigh which almost became a snort of laughter. 

“No, you didn’t not really. When you stopped chasing after Moriarty you would have sat and thought about it. You’re not as dumb as you think you are” Sherlock told him and Greg gave a smile wondering if he had been given Moriarty to distract him from Sherlock’s death. “I really am busy, Lestrade” 

“Can we…Could we talk again?” He thought that the answer was going to be no but he wasn’t sure he could handle not talking to him now that he knew that he was alive. 

“Until I return I can’t risk having too much contact. I thought that you wouldn’t want…I assumed that you would hate me” 

“I love you. I’ve always loved you prat and I know that for you to have done something like this I know that you would have had to have had a reason and I will always be waiting for you for you to come back and tell me what that reason is” He breathed softly against the phone his eyes closing as he tried to imagine Sherlock next to him. “So, you must stay alive and come back so I can listen to your excuses then, okay Sunshine?” 

“You drive a hard bargain, Lestrade” Sherlock chuckled the voice warm and he shivered at the sound of it “But I promise that you will see me again. I apologise Lestrade but I have to go now. Take care of yourself, Lestrade” 

“And you, you bastard, remember that I’m waiting for you” Greg refused to end the call first and just stood listening to Sherlock’s breathing until the younger man got tired himself and switched off his end.

“If you’ve finished using my office, you should go” Mycroft said smoothly taking the phone from his hand as he reappeared in the office as silently as mist would have done. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that this is a secret between ourselves” 

“Keep him safe” Greg said slowly putting the phone down on the desk and staring at Mycroft who once again had a file in his hands his eyes moving over it as he said;

“It appears that I have already made that my life goal. Good day inspector” 

Mycroft waved his hand and Greg wasn’t one to stay passed his welcome. He wanted his questions to be answered more than anything but at the moment he was prepared to accept that Sherlock was alive and that he was going to see him again. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I could have made Greg more angry...But...I wanted it to be that he understands Sherlock, knows that he wouldn't have done it without good reason, loves him, and is just happy that he's alive, pretty much like in show where he just calls him a bastard and hugs him. 
> 
> Anywho...Its over...So i hope that it was okay ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope that this is okay


End file.
